


Good Girls Bad Guys

by slashersmasherlover



Category: House of Wax (2005)
Genre: F/M, Smut, a smidge of fluff and angst, this one actually has a plot wow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:34:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28718154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashersmasherlover/pseuds/slashersmasherlover
Summary: You wake up in the basement. What happened, and what will you do about it?
Relationships: Bo Sinclair/Reader, Bo Sinclair/You
Kudos: 13





	Good Girls Bad Guys

You woke up on a hard, dirty mattress, the smell of oil and rust immediately hitting your nose.  
What happened? Where am I?  
You struggled to remember the events of what could have been the previous day. But you couldn’t tell how long you had been asleep, so it could have easily been the same day. And then it hit you: the fan belt. The fuckin’ fan belt broke, leaving you in the hands of a very handsome mechanic. And then there was the wax museum…  
Silently cursing you assessed your current situation. You were wearing a shirt that definitely wasn’t yours and nothing else, except some sticky substance between your legs. Above the mattress was a wall of polaroids, each of a different girl in pretty much nothing in a sexy position. But one stood out: it was you. Across the room was an old television set, an odd dentist-like chair, and random equipment hanging on the walls. You got up to try the door; it was locked.  
It was a long time before you heard any signs of life. Keys were opening the main entrance of wherever you were, then footsteps were coming down the stairs, and keys opened the door to you.  
“Oh good, yer awake.” It was the mechanic. What was his name again? Bo?  
“W-why am I here? What are you going to do with me?” You trembled as he stepped forward, smirk on his stupidly handsome face.  
“Yer not gonna die, if that’s what ya think. What’s the last thing ya remember?”  
“I broke down up the road. Came here looking for a fan belt…the rest is all blank.” You shook your head. “Why can’t I remember?”  
“You fainted an’ hit yer head pretty bad. Dehydration, I guess.”  
A couple days later, it hit you. You discovered that the “people” in this town were all wax, save for you, Bo, and some Vincent guy who was the artist for the museum. Which meant…you groaned. Too trusting, you had gotten yourself kidnapped. And from the look of it, the mechanic you were too busy thinking about, had been the one to change your clothes…and likely fucked you. While the rational part of your brain knew he was a terrible person, you still couldn’t stop thinking about him and what he could do with those fingers.  
A few days turned into weeks, and you found yourself fucking yourself to the thought of him after his daily visit to bring you enough food and water to survive. You also got to know more about him and the town, since you weren’t going to be leaving. Bo and Vincent, his brother, had been luring people into their grasps for years to turn them into wax figures. And while he had no direct involvement, Lester, his other brother, knew about it all.  
You thought that you were being subtle, but Bo noticed the way you were looking at him. Which led to this moment, of Bo crashing his lips onto yours. He tasted like cigarettes and alcohol. You moaned into the kiss when he grabbed your ass, allowing him to shove his tongue in. Bo then picked you up and tossed you onto the mattress, joining you after discarding his pants. He yanked off the shirt you were wearing and his hands wandered your body as he sucked and bit on your skin.  
“Please.”  
“Please what?” he smirked before shoving a finger into your dripping pussy, making you whimper loudly. After adding two more fingers, he decided you were ready. Bo took his aching cock out of his underwear and pumped it a couple times before slowly entering you. When you both adjusted, he took it out before slamming it back in at an agonizingly rough pace, making you scream. You didn’t last long, and when you came, he did shortly after. Bo pulled out and collapsed on the mattress next to you. He reached for his pants, taking out a cigarette and lighter.  
“Are you going to kill me?” Your words startled him, almost making him drop his cigarette.  
“Now what made ya think that?”  
“Well, you did murder countless people and turned them into sculptures.”  
“I don’t plan on killin’ ya. If I did, you’d be dead already,” Bo sighed and adjusted himself to face you.  
“…so I’ll be locked up here until you get tired of me?” you asked, turning away from him.  
“Not if I can trust you to not leave.”  
The next few days gave you time to ponder what he said. Do you want to stay? Would you be happy here? Or would you beg him to kill you? All great questions, but they scared you. You had no attachment to your outside life. No good friends, no romance, and no family members that you cared too much about. You had grown oddly fond of Bo, and it scared the hell out of you. You liked-no-LOVED- him, despite all the warning signs and the rational parts of your brain. Fuck.  
The next time Bo dropped in, you told him. Not the part that you love him. That can wait. But that there was nothing for you in the outside world and you wouldn’t mind staying. Of course, it would take some time for both of you to trust each other. So you started small.  
You handed Bo the tools he needed when he was fixing his truck, and he supervised you as you cooked. Sooner than later, you found yourself living in the house. Sharing a bed with Bo, because the alternative was the couch. In the days you weren’t around Bo, you got to know Vincent. He let you watch him work and would answer any yes or no questions you had, not trusting his voice.  
Then it happened when you were around. Bo locked you in your shared room while he hunted down the unwanted guests, arriving back around midnight. His coveralls were caked in blood and he had a crazy look in his eyes. That was the only warning you got before he slammed you onto the bed, your surprise giving him more control. He ripped off your clothes before smashing his lips on yours with a clash of teeth, and you tasted blood. Bo unzipped himself, taking out his already-hard, dripping cock and harshly forced open your mouth, shoving it in. After a good minute or so of you gagging on his dick, he pulled out and slammed into your pussy.  
“Fuck darlin’, you’re so tight. Look at you, getting off on my anger. What are you, a slut?” Apparently, he wanted an answer to that question, because he slapped you in your silence.  
“Y-yes daddy.” It slipped out, and before you could apologize, Bo somehow started thrusting even faster. His thumb massaged your clit, making you both come at the same time.  
When Bo woke up the next morning, he was surprised you were still there. Around lunchtime, he confronted you about it. “I’ve wracked my brain all mornin’ tryin’ to figure this out. Why didn’t ya try to leave yet?”  
You looked away biting your lip. “Well, I’ve, um, grown to like you. And sure, you scared the hell out of me last night, but that doesn’t change my feelings for you.”   
He didn’t trust himself to speak, so his response was to hold you tightly in an embrace. It led him to think that maybe he did deserve love after all.

**Author's Note:**

> yes, the title is a homage to the song of the same name


End file.
